Through ferns and moss the path wound to
A hollow where the touch-me-nots
Swung horns of honey filled with dew;
And where—like footprints—violets blue
And bluets made sweet sapphire blots,
’Twas there that she had passed I knew.
The grass, the very wilderness
On either side, breathed rapture of
Her passage: ’twas her hand or dress
That touched some tree—a slight caress—
That made the wood-birds sing above;
Her step that woke the flowers, I guess.
I hurried, till across my way,
Foam-footed, bounding through the wood,
A brook, like some wild child at play,
Went laughing loud its roundelay;
And there upon its bank she stood,
A sunbeam clad in forest gray.
And when she saw me, all her face
Bloomed like a wild-rose by the stream;
And to my breast a moment’s space
I gathered her; and all the place
Seemed conscious of some happy dream
Come true to add to Earth its grace:
Some union, that was Heav’n’s intent—
For which God made the world—the bliss,
The love, that raised her innocent
Young face to mine that, smiling, bent
And sealed her first words with a kiss—
As Love might close his testament.